Refugees
by Jade Dragoon
Summary: Earthrealm has been destroyed. Its cities leveled, its people slaughtered, its chosen heroes defeated. The entire planet has been reduced to a smoking wasteland. Now, its only three survivors must make their way to Edenia while battling this new threat.


Disclaimer: I do not own MK or anything related to it.

Author's note: I'm working on another fic in addition to this one, so I don't know how often this will be updated, but I will do my best not to make it too long. This is set shortly after Deception.

**Chapter One**

Shadows danced on the ground and across the trees as the campfire leapt and crackled, tossing up sparks that shone against the surrounding darkness like bright stars in a midnight sky, its hissing and spitting mingling with all the other sounds of the forest. The gentle rustle of the grass in the breeze, the chirping of unseen insects somewhere in the bushes, the caw of a crow that split the air every now and then, all the noise blended together in perfect harmony. Sub-Zero felt almost relaxed. Almost.

The icy warrior shifted his position, trying in vain to bring his aching limbs some measure of comfort. The ground was hard as stone, and he was weary to the point of collapse, his body filled with a fatigue brought on by too little sleep and too much battle. The Dragon Medallion on his chest had aged him beyond his years, but only during the past fortnight had Sub-Zero really felt old. His bones felt like water, his legs were jelly, and he was feeling pain in muscles he hadn't even realized he'd had. His eyelids kept drooping, and more than once he dozed off, waking only when some sixth sense jerked him out of his daze, or when the crow cried out again. He'd rebuke himself even as his eyes threatened to close shut again, knowing all the while that his mental admonishments were useless. He needed rest badly.

Sub-Zero may have been exhausted, but his enemies were tireless, unyielding, relentless. Two weeks they had been hot on the heels of him and his companions, always as vigorous and steadfast in their pursuit as the day before. It was amazing they'd evaded them this long, really. They'd survived by always keeping one step ahead of their foes. _And sometimes even that's not enough, _Sub-Zero reflected. There was no doubt in his mind that they were being tracked even now. How far away their pursuers were he didn't know, but they were there, of that he was certain. His eyes were peeled for the slightest movement, his ears perfectly attuned for the softest strange sound. If they were attacked, he didn't want to be taken by surprise. One shout would be enough to wake his allies, and then there would be yet another battle.

The Lin Kuei grandmaster glanced over at the two men sleeping on the ground behind him, the only refugees of a shattered realm. They alone, along with Sub-Zero, had survived this far. They must have been as tired as he was, but they would not utter a word of complaint. They were hardened warriors, both of them. _They'd have to be, to have lived this long, _Sub-Zero thought to himself. Both had proved themselves time and again on their harsh journey, fighting like men possessed, ignoring the pain and suffering that plagued them as they trudged on. More than once they'd saved Sub-Zero's life, and he theirs. Alone they could not have survived. Together, perhaps they would live. They only needed to make it through a few more days, just a few more. They were close to their destination now.

One of the men was stirring. The figure rose from the ground and walked over to Sub-Zero, his silhouette appearing haggard and worn. By the light of the fire, Sub-Zero could see a tangled mop of raven-black hair, and a face covered with smeared war paint. Nightwolf. Dried blood mixed in with the paint around the shaman's eyes, darkening its usual red color. A half-healed gash ran across his left arm, and his vest and leggings were ripped and torn.

"Get some sleep, Sub-Zero," the shaman told him. "I'll take watch."

Sub-Zero shook his head. "I can stay awake a little longer," he replied, his words at complete odds with his feelings.

Nightwolf sighed. "You need rest, my friend. I saw you after our last encounter. You could barely stand." His deep voice was lowered to an urgent whisper, concern clouding his face.

"Very well," Sub-Zero said grudgingly, giving in. He rose to his feet, pain lancing up his battered legs. The Lin Kuei warrior clenched his teeth, biting back a groan. "Wake up Kung Lao in a few hours," he told Nightwolf. His ally nodded and took Sub-Zero's place on the ground.

Sub-Zero walked over to the patch of earth that Nightwolf had vacated and lay down. A few feet away, the warrior monk Kung Lao slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling. Sub-Zero closed his eyes, praying that sleep came quickly, bringing him the same peace.

Unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered. Exhausted as he was, he could not fall asleep. Instead, he found himself relieving the past month and a half over and over again. The horrible events raced through his head like a team of runaway horses from a war chariot, and no attempt to quiet his mind could block them out. The battle at the Lin Kuei temple…the escape across the frozen plains of Artika…four dead bodies staining the snow red…the burning of the Wu Shi temple…the news of the death of nearly every friend he'd ever known…the slaughter of Nightwolf's people…horrific images flooded his brain until he wanted to scream. And it had all began with someone he'd known for years, someone he'd already defeated numerous times.

Sektor. Sektor and his Tekunin.

Like a red wave of desolation, they'd come out of nowhere, annihilating all in their path. Every day, new tales had reached the Lin Kuei, tales of untold carnage and devastation. Entire cites were wiped out in days. New York. London. Beijing. Moscow. All once stood proud, all now were little more than rubble. The death toll had numbered in the billions, a terrible repetition of Shao Kahn's assault on Earthrealm years ago. But this had been worse. Much worse, for this time no one was spared, not even Raiden's so-called 'chosen'.

It had been a hard blow indeed when a messenger had brought word of the destruction the OIA headquarters, and the deaths of Sonya Blade and Jackson Briggs. Sub-Zero remembered with chilling clarity the cold, numbing wave of disbelief that had coursed through him at the news, how he'd stood absolutely still, every fiber of his body reeling at what he'd heard. Shakily, he'd dismissed the messenger, and then, for the first time in decades, Sub-Zero, grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, legendary warrior and assassin, whose soul had been coated with ice almost since the day of his birth, had sat down, laid his head in his hands, and cried. As the tears flowed, the memories came with them, memories of Sonya's almost alarming dedication, a grim seriousness that was somehow endearing, and of Jax's endless wisecracks, a never-ceasing stream of jokes and clever lines, likely uttered in a vain attempt to make his partner smile. Different as they were, the two had been the very best of friends. And now they were gone. Gone forever.

Even worse, if that was possible, had been the news of Cyrax. His old friend, who had regained control of his soul for so short a time, was now a mindless slave once again, reprogrammed by the Tekunin. It had been hard enough to loose Smoke to the control of Noob Saibot, the twisted creature that had once been his older brother, but the thought of another friend trapped in mechanical enslavement had been almost too much to bear. _He tried to back out at the last minute during the original automation project,_ Sub-Zero remembered. _As he lay on the operating table, he realized what he was giving up and tried to resist, so they strapped him down and forced it on him. _When the OIA had given Cyrax his soul back, he'd told Sub-Zero it had been like being born again. To have lost his freedom again after having tasted it only briefly must have been utterly unendurable.

The mechanical army had plowed on after that victory, the burning wreckage of the OIA in its wake, automating countless innocents and killing the rest. Gradually, it made its way into Artika, and towards the Lin Kuei temple.

Sub-Zero had acted fast, mobilizing the army he'd been building up since Sektor's invasion with remarkable speed. Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei had swelled in number. He'd personally seen to it that every new recruit was at the peak of his or her power, so that there were no weak links in the chain of the clan. The army that had marched against Sektor was six thousand strong. Six thousand unstoppable fighters, six thousand undefeatable defenders of Earthrealm. Six thousand Lin Kuei warriors had faced Sektor's Tekunin on the grounds of the temple.

Five of them survived.

The battle had been a massacre. The red machines had utterly demolished Sub-Zero's army, cutting his men down like cattle on the butcher's block. He'd seen warriors he'd trained from boyhood fall in a bloody heap on the snow, seen old, hardened veterans and young, green novices alike cut to ribbons. He'd barely escaped with his life, along with four others. Together, the only five Lin Kuei left alive made for the Wu Shi Temple, the only place that hadn't been destroyed by Sektor, but had been on the run for less than a day when they were found by roving patrols of Tekunin, on the hunt for survivors.

Taurus had been the first to die, his immense strength mattering little against the hail of missiles that struck him, reducing him to a smoking mass of charred flesh. Two days later, Ghost fell under the cruel red plasma of a pulse blade. The dour and silent assassin was followed shortly by Avalanche, his young life cut viciously short by a burst from a wrist-mounted flamethrower. Cobalt had lasted the longest, the skill that had taken him up the ranks of the Lin Kuei evident as he fought with unmatched ferocity at Sub-Zero's side against the never-ending patrols. For a while, Sub-Zero had dared to hope that the two of them might make it to the Wu Shi Temple alive, but that hope had been dashed to pieces when Cobalt had taken a wound to the chest. He'd sworn to Sub-Zero that it was nothing, that he could continue on, but a day later he collapsed in the snow, barely able to move.

He'd died in Sub-Zero's arms, murmuring softly in his last few moments that it had been an honor to serve under the Lin Kuei grandmaster. Sub-Zero had clasped Cobalt's shaking hand, and replied that the greater honor had been fighting alongside such a fine warrior. At those words, the dying man's eyes had brightened, light breaking through the haze of pain clouding his face. Then he'd taken one last shuddering breath, and the light had vanished. Sub-Zero closed the corpse's eyes and folded his arms across his chest, wishing fervently that he'd had time to bury him.

He'd struck out alone after that, all the while harried by Tekunin patrols. Three weeks after Cobalt's death, he made it to China, but any idea of seeking sanctuary in the Wu Shi Temple was destroyed when he encountered a bloodied and battered Kung Lao on the road. The happiness at the chance meeting of his ally left quickly as Kung Lao told him of the bloodbath at their temple, the massacre of all the monks, the desecration of Liu Kang's tomb, and the burning of the grounds. The warrior monk had survived only by hiding under the bodies of the slain, and had fled as soon as night had fallen.

Kung Lao's words had put Sub-Zero on the brink of despair, and the arrival of Fujin did nothing to lighten his burden of grief. The god of wind brought with him the news that the destruction of the Lin Kuei and Wu Shi temples had marked the fall of the last major bastions against the Tekunin hordes. With their ruin, nothing stood between Sektor's army and total destruction. The only safe haven, Fujin told them, was the small patch of land where Nightwolf and his tribe had settled, and that was nothing more than a refuge. Nightwolf and the few fighters in the shaman's tribe would be nowhere near enough to withstand the power of the mechanical warriors. There would be no help from there.

They could expect none from the gods, either, Fujin had sadly informed the two. The Elder Gods had prohibited any divine interference, threatening anyone who aided either the humans or the Tekunin with the loss of their powers and immortality. Fujin had been risking much by appearing to them.

The wind god had prepared to send them to Nightwolf, to perhaps buy them some time before the tribe was discovered, but Sub-Zero had stopped him, disbelieving. He couldn't comprehend the fact that there was nothing left, nothing to stop Sektor's rampage of annihilation. Surely there had to be _some_ ray of hope. "What of Earthrealm's other heroes?" he'd asked. "Will we find them with Nightwolf's tribe? Are there enough still alive to form a resistance?" Fujin's reply still hurt even now.

"Everyone else is dead."

Sub-Zero had had to struggle for breath as he'd heard those words, his head reeling as Fujin listed the slain. Kai...Johnny Cage…Kenshi…Kurtis Stryker…Shujinko…all of Earthrealm's greatest fighters, dead. Beside him, Kung Lao's face was a terrible mask of grief. The monk's shoulders were shaking, his hands trembling.

In desperation, Sub-Zero had asked of the fate of the evil warriors of Earthrealm. The Tekunin plague threatened the whole realm; surely if some were still left alive, they could form some sort of temporary alliance against this threat. It had been a fleeting hope at best, and Fujin had blown it aside with the news of the destruction of both the Red Dragon Clan and Kabal's new Black Dragon. Even Jarek, a former member of the old Black Dragon, who'd had no affiliation with Kabal, was dead. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, nearly everyone who'd ever battled in the name of Earthrealm, whether to defend it from invasion, or for their own personal gains, was gone. Sub-Zero, Kung Lao, and apparently Nightwolf, were the only ones left.

With a somber look on his face, Fujin had bid them good luck, then raised his hands, vanishing Sub-Zero and Kung Lao in a flash of light. They'd rematerialized in the middle of a Native American settlement, the only secure location left in the entire realm. Nightwolf stood nearby, waiting to greet them with a grave visage that mirrored Fujin's. He'd said nothing, simply motioned them to a vacant hut. They'd both walked in, collapsed on the floor, and fallen asleep.

The next morning, Nightwolf had joined them, and they'd sat together in the hunt, discussing fervently any small, tiny ray of hope that might save their realm, a pitiful little council of the last three warriors left alive on Earth. They talked throughout entire morning and afternoon; the sun was just setting when they finally decided on a plan. They would depart the next day, leaving the tribe in the hands of one of Nightwolf's war chiefs, and make for the ruins of the Red Dragon headquarters. There were rumors that Mavado and his clan of criminals had been constructing portals to other realms through some technological means. If they could find and activate one of those portals, they could escape to Edenia, get help from Sindel. Their headquarters was thousands of miles away, but it was their only chance to break the Tekunin war machine.

Nightwolf had left them, telling Sub-Zero and Kung Lao to get some rest. They'd both lain down, but Sub-Zero had no sooner fallen asleep than a gigantic explosion made the ground tremble. He and Kung Lao had raced outside, screaming ringing in their ears all around them. Countless huts were demolished, the wreckage strewn all over the ground. Nightwolf's tribe was scattering, but they had nowhere to go. Surrounding the entire settlement were scores and scores of Tekunin warriors.

Missiles flew, flamethrowers ignited, and bodies hit the ground as the blood-red cybers rampaged through the entire village. Sub-Zero and Kung Lao ran to their aid, joined shortly by Nightwolf. They'd tried their best, fighting like madmen to save the people, but it was a futile hope. The Tekunin were too many, and the tribesmen were unarmed, save for a few that were cut down first. In the end, the ground had been littered with burned and broken corpses, and Sub-Zero, Kung Lao, and Nightwolf stood in a tight circle, surrounded by a mass of Tekunin. The Lin Kuei warrior had felt his own death coming as he'd gazed upon the ranks of mindless automations. Expressionless metal faces had met his stare, and he'd gripped his Kori Blade tightly in one hand, his other hand forming one final iceball, ready for a last, desperate stand.

Suddenly, a wind began to blow. It was a gentle breeze at first, but soon grew harder, faster and faster until it blew with the force of a hurricane. It decimated the forces of the Tekunin, yet left Sub-Zero and his companions untouched. On and on it blew, until there was nothing left of the enemy that had caused so much destruction. After the last machine had been ripped apart by the gale, Fujin had appeared before them once again.

"This is the last time I will be able to help you," he'd told them. "I cannot send you straight to Edenia; it would be too risky, it might attract the attention of the Elder Gods to my efforts. The best I can do is send you to the edge of the Krimson Forest. There you will find what is left of the headquarters of the Red Dragon. Go there, activate the portals. It will not be easy. Tekunin still lurk about." He raised his hands for a second time, leveling them at the three warriors. "Farewell."

Another flash of light had enveloped them, and Sub-Zero had the others had been whisked away, this time appearing on the edge of a massive forest. The three had exchanged one determined look, then set forth. Two weeks they'd traveled, evading countless patrols of Tekunin, and destroying those they could not escape. Somehow, they'd survived, but unending fighting had taken its toll on all of them. Bloodied, bruised and battered, the three pressed ever onward, each day drawing closer to their destination. They were close now. After a fortnight of traveling, evading, and battling, they were almost to the ruins of the Red Dragon.

The stars twinkled brightly overhead in the night sky as Sub-Zero's mental journey came to a close, the crescent moon beaming like a beacon of hope in a world of darkness. Sub-Zero lay on his back and looked up at the heavens, wondering if the hope for the survival of Earthrealm would eventually shine as intensely. _With the armies of Edenia at our back, and warriors such as Kitana, Jade, and Sindel by our side, we should be evenly matched against Sektor's forces, _Sub-Zero thought. If only they could survive long enough to make there….The Krimson Forest was gigantic, and the Red Dragon clan's former stronghold lay at the very end, built into an enormous mountain. They were close, but they still had a couple more days' worth of ground to cover. Their survival was far from certain.

_It will be even less of a certainty if I don't get some sleep,_ he told himself sternly. Nightwolf was right, he needed rest. Blissfully, his mind was blank after his remembrance of the events that had led him here. He closed his eyes and rolled over on his side, slumber finally coming to him as the campfire crackled, the stars glittered, and the moon shone its hope in the sky.


End file.
